


Confession

by sasha_feather



Category: Legally Blonde (2001)
Genre: AU, Community: kink_bingo, F/F, penance/punishment, whipping/flogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-08
Updated: 2011-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_feather/pseuds/sasha_feather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vivian likes it when Elle tells her what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

> Betas: were-duck and anna-bird.

Vivian sat on the floor of her cell and plucked at a stray thread on the cuff of her prison-issue jumper. The matte blue-gray material matched a little too well with the steel walls and floor, making everything blend into everything else. The boredom and fear had started to turn her brain into the same blue-gray too. She worked math problems in her head, recited poetry aloud, and paced the five steps of her cell, but after a while there was nothing to do but sit. It had been, if she had calculated correctly, fourteen days since her arrest.

She would have argued, with her best legal skills, had there been any ears to hear. But she saw no one. The food slot opened twice a day, the waste disposal units whirred and clicked, the lights silently dimmed and brightened. Her world had shrunk to her cot, her small meals, and her memorized poems.

She was lying on her cot, staring at the wall over her feet. Vivian’s current mental exercise was to think of all adjectives starting with the letter “s”. Slippery.  
Smooth.  
Silky.  
Seductive.  
Vivian stuck her right hand down the front of her loose prison-issue pyjama pants.

Just then the door to her cell whooshed open. Vivian sat up abruptly, as mortified as a teenager caught by her parents masturbating, but then her old self-defense training kicked in, and she stood up and took a defensive posture.

After a few seconds of silence, Vivian heard the clacking of heels. She never expected the coiffed, perfumed figure who walked into her little prison cell.

“....Elle Woods?”

She looked just the same, her chin raised as high as could be, flint in her eyes, her beautiful hair twisted into some kind of impossible glamorous style. She was wearing the maroon-and-white uniform of the New States, but she’d added her own flair by ruffling out the skirt. An insignia adorned the lapel of the perfectly-cut blazer: a gold, stylized star that Vivian was unfamiliar with. Pink diamond studs decorated Elle’s ears.

Elle made a gesture and the door closed. She grabbed Vivian’s hands in both of hers. “Vivian. What’s it been-- ten years?”

“Uh,” Vivian said, finding her mouth strangely dry. She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was wearing prison pyjamas, hadn’t brushed her hair in two weeks, and was standing next to Elle Woods. Who was apparently a government official. “Nine, since the academy.”

“Nine, right, you always were better at remembering numbers. Have you been treated badly here? Your hands feel cold.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Vivian thought she probably should draw her hands back, because there was something weird about standing like this, but she didn’t want to. Elle’s hands felt nice. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m your defense attorney. And I had to pull some strings for it, too, so I hope you appreciate it.” Elle sat down on the cot. “Okay, listen, Vivian, we don’t have much time. I can get you out of here, but you have to do as I say. I think I can get the judge to release you into my custody if you take a deal.”

Vivian took a deep breath and sat down next to Elle. There were reasons she hadn’t talked to Elle in nine years; the woman was a force of nature. She more than anyone could alter Vivian’s internal compass. She folded her arms across her belly. “And that will involve what exactly?”

“Probably an admission of guilt and some kind of minor punishment.”

“An admission of guilt. Does it matter if it’s true?”

Elle gave her a look then, a wiser, older look than Vivian had seen before. “Not really.”

“Does it matter to you?”

“We can talk about it later, Viv. The important thing is getting you out of here.”

“You wouldn’t have said that before. Not when we were in school,” Vivian heard her voice go right into arguing mode. Already arguing with Elle, and they were only a few minutes into their reunion.

“Those were different times.” Elle looked away. “Just trust me on this one. I can get you out of this.”

“The sad thing is, out of all of my friends and former lovers? You’re the only one who I actually think can do it.”

“Are all the rest of them in prison?”

Vivian gave her a sour look.

****

Elle was as good as her word; a day later Vivian was released to Elle’s custody, which meant a bland bodyguard and an escort to Elle’s apartment in the city. The suite was spacious and well-appointed; Elle had clearly done very well for herself these past years. A barking chihuahua leaped out from behind the sofa and circled Vivian’s ankles. Vivian picked the dog up and examined the collar. Little rhinestones spelled out “White Fang.”

“I wonder if she’s even read that book,” Vivian mused aloud, but then chided herself. It was always a mistake to underestimate Elle Woods. She cuddled the dog to her chest and continued exploring the suite. Legal books, liquor, coffee, a vid display, a desk... all very boring and company-appropriate. A locked door to what was presumably the bedroom. A guest bedroom and bath. Vivian decided that she may as well take a bath and have a glass of scotch.

Elle found Vivian there in the tub, drinking her very expensive scotch, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Read these and sign them,” Elle said, handing her a datapad. “I’ll give you some time-- I’m going to get some beauty sleep.”

Vivian put on some proper clothing, borrowed from who-knows-where, and read over the documents, which detailed her crimes, her confession, and her punishment, and stated that she would be released afterwards.

Vivian read the terms four times over, considered knocking on Elle’s door and screaming at her, considered what she had to lose. She thought over how many people she knew who had simply never returned from custody. She wondered whether or not she really trusted Elle woods. Vivian took another slow sip of scotch, and signed the papers.

*****

“I confess to possession of contraband, to resisting arrest, and to unpatriotic attitudes and activities,” Vivian stated loudly. Her voice echoed a bit in the courtroom, reminding her of all the times she had enjoyed speaking before a judge as a lawyer. A little part of her brain insisted that there was something perversely enjoyable about this experience, too. She took a breath. “For this I apologize sincerely and accept my punishment.”

“Vivian Kensington, you are hereby sentenced to two months probation, and ten lashes, to be administered immediately.” That was Captain Warner’s voice, the smug asshole. Vivian schooled her face into an expression that if not humble was at least bland. As much as it pained her, now was not the time to provoke him.

She had seen such punishments as this before, everyone had. Viewing the humiliation of one’s peers before the state was one of those unwritten rules of the new society, something you did to stay patriotic. It was a bit amazing she’d gotten this far in life without receiving one before, she reflected, although until recently she’d been relatively straight-laced.

About thirty people stood in the room now; a reasonable crowd. Most stood in the gallery. Captain Warner, the other officials and the lawyers stood in the front. Nearly everyone stood so as to keep the ceremonies short.

Before she could be prompted, Vivian stripped off her uniform tunic and placed her hands against the bar on the wall. The person holding the whip was some unmemorable enlistee. He curled the long whip playfully and snapped it once in the air, apparently enjoying the crack it make in the air. Vivian flinched just a little, but mostly stood very still and breathed as calmly and evenly as she was able. She was not going to give these fools a show. She flexed and stretched her hands, trying not to grasp the bar too tightly. To her right, really just a few paces away, Vivian could see Elle Woods, standing up straight and proud, every hair in place. An angry glint in her eyes. Today Elle wore tall dark red boots with high heels, a maroon skirt and jacket, a white belt with a gold clasp. Patriotic, and yet somehow not--too sexy to be strictly a show of state pride.

Vivian imagined Elle holding that whip just behind her, and the image flared in her mind and body, an electric image. As the lashes came, her body reacted to the pain, gasping and sweating, but her mind became calm. Her eyes locked onto Elle, and Elle looked back at her, silent and steady, an anchor. Time stretched like a piece of elastic. Her thoughts slowed to the pace of her breathing and her heart. Someone called out the number of lashes, his voice echoing slightly. With each call Vivian inhaled sharply, anticipating the next lash. She felt focused as she almost never had before, focused on her own body and its responses, focused on Elle’s cool expression. She was very aware how turned on she was. Her legs trembled, and she feared for a moment that she would collapse and make a fool of herself.

And then the elastic snapped back, time resumed its normal pace, and it was over. Sound returned to normal, voices rushing back into her ears. Someone wrapped a robe around her, and herded her out of the hearing room. Elle slipped from her gaze.

She was led to guest quarters in an adjoining building, where a medic attended her stinging back, and left her alone to think.

***  
Elle contacted her a week later in her apartment in the city. She showed up at the door in a trench coat and heels, holding a paper shopping bag and a large leather purse. Vivian stood back to let her in, grateful that Elle had chosen to arrive while Viv was still wearing her work clothes and felt mostly put together.

“If you think we can just pick up where we left off nine years ago, you’re wrong,” Vivian warned her, locking the front door securely.

“That’s not what I was thinking at all,” Elle replied. She set her bags down on the dining room table and unbuttoned her coat. Vivian watched Elle’s small hands working. She took off the coat to reveal a tight black dress and fishnet stockings. “I was thinking we could start all over.” She reached into her purse and drew out a pair of pink leather gloves that she put on slowly, pulling them up to her elbows. “And go to entirely new places together.”

Vivian’s heart beat faster and she took a step toward Elle. “New places?” In their old life, the sex had not been the best part of their relationship--they were still too young and foolish, each too conflicted to really know what they wanted for themselves and from each other. Vivian had learned a lot in the interim from her many different kinds of relationships, and looked like Elle had also.

Elle’s expression betrayed very little feeling, but her mouth softened just a little. “Do you have a safe word?”

“Wichita,” Vivian said immediately.

Elle nodded. “Use it whenever you like. This starts now and ends when I say it does, or when I fall asleep, whichever comes first. Take off your clothes, Vivian Kensington, because you need to be punished.”

***  
Vivian stood naked next to the bed as she watched Elle remove items from her bags. A short flogger, dildos of various sizes, a harness, lube, and condoms, were laid out neatly in a row. From the bottom of her bag came a long, curled, red whip made of leather and embossed on the handle with gold filigree. It was government issue, just like the one she’d been whipped with in the courthouse. Elle laid this neatly next at the end of the bed, in easy reach.

“Kneel at the foot of the bed,” Elle instructed, and Vivian obeyed automatically. Her breath was coming fast and heavy now, and she felt a sensation like relief when she saw Elle grab the small flogger. The strokes came light at first, as if experimental, then harder and more regularly. They were stinging but not exactly painful, and she relaxed into the sensation, breathing deeply.

A fierce tug at her scalp-- Elle had grabbed her by the hair to turn her around. Vivian complied, reaching for Elle’s thighs. Elle let her touch for a moment before pushing her away. She flogged Vivian’s thighs and belly, harder than she had before, or perhaps it simply hurt more.

“Are you sorry yet?” Elle asked her.

“For what?”

Elle flogged her hard across the belly and Vivian flinched. “For the crimes you committed against your government.”

“I am not sorry.”

Elle struck her hard across the breasts with the flogger. Vivian cried out. Elle did it again in the opposite direction.

Vivian reached for Elle then, grapsing, and Elle let her press her face against Elle’s belly, holding her for a moment while she caught her breath.

“Lie down on the bed, on your back.”

Elle kneeled over her and unzipped her dress from the side. It fell away easily, revealing an exquisite dark pink corset. Her fishnet stockings were thigh-highs, with ribbons tying them off, attached to a garter belt. There were no panties.

Elle grabbed the whip. “Are you sorry?”

“I will never be sorry.”

Elle trailed the whip handle delicately over Vivian’s naked body. She snaked the thin end around her neck. Then she took the blunt handle and slid it downwards, slowly, inexorably, past her belly button, over her clit, into her vagina. Elle fucked Vivian with the whip handle, hard and fast, moving her hips in tandem to thrust of her wrists.

It was not so different from being fucked with a narrow dildo, really, which felt very nice, but it was a government issue whip-- for all Vivian knew it could be that same whip from the courthouse, with the gross sweat from men’s hands on it, men who had punished countless people, and that was just _disgusting_ , and with that thought she came really hard, her body arching up, her voice making strange animal noises. Elle held her shoulders and nuzzled her neck through it, and then her body relaxed all over, like unfurled silk, blown away by the wind.

After a while Elle sat over her and let Vivian eat her out, and later they fell asleep in a big heap of blankets on her bed.

When she woke up Elle was gone, but there was a note on the nightstand.

Wednesday 10 pm  
Park and 82nd, take a table  
wear something nice

Vivian grinned and fell back asleep.

 

the end.


End file.
